Annaliese watched as a man in a long black coat crept around the building below with an old lady in tow. The man on the roof seemed to be running some kind of distraction for them by screaming, shouting, and waving his arms like a maniac.
“They’re screwed,” said Greg. “There’s no way they’ll be able to escape all of those infected. They’re going to get totally surrounded and torn apart.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Just wait,” she said. “They’re running some kind of plan. The man on the roof has them all corralled at the front of the building, while the other two are running around the back into the woods.”
“Well, how are they going to get the man down off the roof?” Greg asked. “There’s no way.”
Annaliese had no idea, but Greg’s eagerness to count the strangers out was beginning to get on her nerves. The only thing that was clear was that the strangers down below were working together and watching each other’s back.
Probably the only reason they’re still alive.
“Maybe, we can run a distraction of our own,” Mike suggested, a couple feet to her left. “Try and draw the infected away from them.”
“No way!” Shawcross objected from a few feet away. “You’ll get us killed.”
Mike shrugged and looked to Annaliese for her opinion.
He respects my opinion more than Shawcross’s.
Unfortunately, she had to agree with Shawcross, however much she did not want to. “We can’t risk it,” she told Mike. “We’ll just end up bringing the infected up here.”
He didn’t put up any argument. He just sighed and let his gaze drift back down to the struggling survivors. “Man…that sucks.”
Annaliese watched the stranger in the long black coat enter the woods with the old woman. He reappeared a moment later without her. He seemed to exchange a few words with the man on the roof, and then climbed through a window at the side of the building. The man on the roof continued keeping the infected bunched together at the front.
Time went by and nothing happened. Annaliese stood silently by, gazing down at the scene below. Her skin felt tight around her bones and her heart beat too fast.
Then something began to happen.
“The infected people are heading into the café,” she said. “Look!”
The infected were shuffling into the café, clambering through the broken windows. After a while, the man stranded on the roof was able to head to the back of the building without any of the infected paying attention. Annaliese watched in amazement as the other man, the one in the black coat, exited the building from a side window and then raced around the back to join his colleague, who was now jumping down off the roof to join him. Within seconds, both men had disappeared into the treeline.
“They did it,” said Mike. “Good for them!”
“But where are they heading next?” Shawcross enquired.
“Hopefully, they’ll make it up here,” said Alan, rubbing a hand against his moustache. “They’ll be safe with us.”
“If they don’t end up leading all of those infected up the hill with them,” said Annaliese. “We discussed this and I’m not sure having people joining us is a good idea.”
There was silence in the group as they digested the possibilities. The truth was that none of them could know for sure what was best. The other group of survivors could have knowledge they didn’t, medical supplies, weapons. But they could also be dangerous, insane, or infected. One thing was certain, though: if the other survivors tried to make it up the hill, no one could exactly stop them.
“You know what this means?” said Greg.
“What?”